When The Sun Sets
by idonrlycarenemore
Summary: Jesse and Suze lose their baby, and are enlisting psychic help. Can Jess help them find their love lost? More importantly, will she? Crossover fic Mediator/1-800-Where-R-U. Challenge.
1. Chapter 1

Type: Mediator Fanfic  
Title: When the Sun Sets  
Ratings: T  
Quote: "Querida, I don't want you to get hurt…don't you think fighting spirits is enough? Now you want to fight them alive…and the crayzee ones too!"

3-5 Include:  
1. Jesse and Suze getting married and having a son...(SORRY ASH)  
2. Crossover with 1-800-Where-R-U  
3. Jesse and Suze child missing  
4. Jesse a doctor

3-5 NOT include:  
1. Paul Slater  
2. Sappy love  
3. Jesse and Suze break-up

Length: 8 chapters

...fic challenge for **ashpash**. please r&r.

1

**Suze**

Kissing Jesse used to be something surreal, something unimaginable. Now kissing Jesse was like stepping into my favourite pair of Jimmy Choos, dependable, comfy, and they _always_fit right.

Having sex with Jesse used to be frightening, and exhilarating. Now, having sex with Jesse was receiving a hefty paycheck. I _deserved_this, I did.

The thought of having children with Jesse shocked me to the core. Now…it still does, _she _still does. Ana Jenny De Silva, (AJ to all who knew her for at least five minutes) was livewire if there ever was one.

…Well. I _am _her mother.

At the first instance of my pregnancy, I was over the moon, jumping, whooping, totally and completely _happy_. Brad (who'd showed up for dinner), and Jake (who practically lived there) and disappeared almost immediately after Jesse broke the news. Five minutes later, a four-way call between my Mom, Gina, CeeCee and Adam, plus Andy on the extension ensued, and we were all laughing, crying, and in the latter two's case, cracking bad jokes. An hour later I called Father Dominic, but he couldn't really speak to me. At seventy-seven, Father Dominic had developed Alzheimer's. I'd hung up the phone and cried.

Eight months fifteen days later, Ana Jenny had been born, early and with a passion to survive. Father Dom died the night after I called him, a week later, to tell him the news. Jesse and I cried together.

Three years later, and I'd become a cop. A _good_cop. The type who kicked ass in leather, and never did the plain clothes, undercover crap.

Live ass was far more satisfying to kick than ghost ass.

For one thing, everyone could see me do it. I didn't have to "mediate" either, let the psycho-ologists (according to Adam) do that. I just K.O.'d the bad guys. For another thing, AJ loved it, loved me for it. Even Jesse grew to love my ass-kicking profession, even after his initial, "Querida, I don't want you to get hurt…don't you think fighting spirits is enough? Now you want to fight them alive…and the crayzee ones too!" I'd grimaced, and instructed him _never _to use the word crayzee again. He'd shrugged, and I'd cut off his Disney and Lifetime channels. The word crayzee never re-entered the Simon/De Silva household.

Two years later and I still kicked ass.

But now, Ana Jenny was gone.

-- --

"You left her at Aunt Prudence's didn't you?" I screamed, angry with Cee and with myself for losing her.

"I said I wouldn't! She was with me at Pru's, I took her home, Adam and I fixed up Gertie's cot—"

"DID YOU CHECK TO SEE IF SHE WAS IN THE CAR???" I bellowed, and CeeCee smoothed her hands over her stretched belly.

"Gerta is frightened." She said in a very un-Cee like voice. "And I _know_ she's in the car because we played her Barney tunes! I would have_never _played Barney tunes! Barney tunes aren't good for the cognitive process of the birth of a child, you _know_ that Suze! We _did_, I'm _telling_ you!"

"I shouldn't have gone, shouldn't have…"

"AJ's probably just somewhere you wouldn't expect, like—"

"Where would you expect a five year old to _go_?" I inquired snottily. CeeCee stepped back and bared her teeth at me. Her braces had done magic, and now her mouth matched her white face, glowing and sparkly. And straight too.

"We'll find her, Suze." She said quietly, calming her initial anger. "We'll find her."

"My baby…My beautiful, beautiful baby….What will I do without you AJ? What _did _I do without you…?"

CeeCee stared disbelievingly at me.

"Susannah Simon! What happened to the you of ten years ago? The Suze S I knew wouldn't sit back and lose her child! That Suze would make use of her resources! _You know_, Suze! Use _it_ to find her!"

I looked away. Ghosts hardly came to me now, and I didn't know what had happened to them. Father Dom was dead, Paul Slater had died in a car crash on graduation night taking Kelly Prescott to his home (She hadn't survived either), and Jack Slater was god knows where on god knows what planet. I didn't think Dr. Slaski got any visitors either. The dead scarcely asked for help from their own kind.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew this must mean something, but I didn't really mind their absence. I had my Mom, my friends, my Jesse (and a super good guy in bed), and my daughter. My AJ.

The sentient spirits (my Joke word for them…I had lots of Joke words for things) didn't come to Jesse either, even though he welcomed them. Truly? I think they would've distracted them. His worked took up a _lot _of his time. Jesse's become one of those doctors who explain your fracture to you when you're at the Carmel Heights Hospital, and you wonder why _your _doctor isn't as hot and charming and nice.

Jesse loved it at his charity practice, Paediatricians For The Poor (a name I found very Patronizing and Poo-ey), but he didn't make much. Neither did I, come to think of it, in fact, if not for my inheritance, I think I'd be broke off my arse.

When I turned twenty-one, my Mom revealed the secret of my Dad's "money", the late "work" he'd done when I was younger, work I hadn't really been suspicious enough about until after he died.

_Why was he always out so late_? I asked myself, but never had the guts to tell him. It turns out that Dad was a writer of _Romance Novels_. My Dad wrote the kinds of books that twelve year olds swooned over and then grew out of when they realised that no man was ever going to be as good to them as His Lordship Banal Anal Cockhead Snufflebutt the Third. He wrote under the pseudonym Susie Bear, which, I blushed even now at the thought, was his nickname for me. Susie Bear.

"I don't, don't see them much…"

"But Jesse must have loads of contacts in the Spirit world! He can use them and help you to find AJ, and everything'll be good won't it?" CeeCee said frantically, and she kept sputtering until she broke down into tears.

CeeCee had loved AJ, and AJ had loved CeeCee's belly. Loved the roundness of it, and always listened for CeeCee's baby's (Gerta's) kicks. It was a scant two weeks until Gertie's prescribed date of birth, and I knew if we didn't find AJ, it would be a sad event. With the passing of one child would come another was the way I knew Cee'd see this. She'd beat herself up over AJ's lost. I had to find her.

For Cee.

For Adam.

For my Mom.

For Andy.

For Brad, Gina, Jake, for everyone.

For Jesse.

And most of all, for Myself.

-- --

a/n: Squick! A new Mediator Fic! Written as a fic challenge for Ashley. Crossover with 1-800-Where-R-U. Please review!

Peaches,

Anya


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Jess**

We're still not married.

For some completely Gaylord reason, he doesn't want to tie the knot.

"Too young, too much responsibilities, too much going on around the shop…"

What-the hell-ever.

I'm twenty-four now, and I can practically feel the grey hairs coming in.

Oh sure, he's willing to whisk me off to Morocco, and continuously service me Harley, and have sex with me in public places…no comment.

But we've been engaged for six years, and the stupid bugger won't marry me!

Don't get me wrong.

I'm in love with him.

Really,_really _in love with him.

I'm so in love with him it hurts, and I can't help but melt when he says, "Mastriani, get your skinny butt off Mrs. Jackson's just-painted car."

But I kind of hate my last name now. Mastriani is so blah, so boring. Jess Wilkins would totally suit me.

Just like my new leather jacket _rocks _my black jeans with the chains on them from Hot Topic. Never mind that Stu Winston (the bane of my working-girl existence) wolf-whistled before actually noticing who I was.

Never mind that walking through the streets, a girl took out a can of pepper spray from her Prada purse.

Screw that.

I knew I looked _hot_.

This new "working class hero" bit is also something I'm learning to avoid. Part of me still wants to be a member of our orchestra, but it's an unreliable profession, and I _know_should let those who are better than me have a chance. I don't want to teach music anymore either, I guess because I'm far too jaded to deal with children.

Yes, another thing Rob refuses to talk about. Children. I think he's remembering the heydays of his sister. Eeurgh.

So my job is, currently, the cashier at the local mall Borders. I can't_exactly _afford the new black True Religion jeans I was admiring on my lunch break (Bloomingdale's. Yessir.), but it's fun reading and reccing new titles, and I get all the free Starbucks I want.

Like this jacket, I'm wearing? I got the money for it from my boss for helping some film staresque person find the Kama Sutra. Hello, instant bonus!

I was admiring my darling new jacket in the mirror when I got a phone call. Managing to tear my eyes away from my handsome visage (er, right) I yelled for Rob to answer the phone.

Another thing about our relationship my parents hated. Rob and I lived together, and there was nothing they could do about it. I loved Rob, Rob loved me, what _else_ was standing in our way? Family, friends, a little barrier I liked to call my hymen? What-frigging-ever. We were in _lurve_. The thousands of quizzes I'd taken said so. Only problem with being in love was the fact that it hurt, _really, really _hurt when Rob said he didn't want to get married. Marriage, to Rob, was like Church, I guess. You admired those people who went through with it, but could you _ever_imagining waking up at six in the a.m. on a Sunday to worship? Not Rob, so he didn't bother.

Just like he didn't bother marry me. I'm still huffy.

Like usual, neither of us exactly jumped to answer the annoying "Flinstones! Meet the Flinstones! We're a modern stone age familllyyy" tune that is the Mastriani/Wilkins theme song. I didn't know what possessed me to give that as our ringtone, but here we were, listening to the Flinstones whenever someone dropped us a line.

"'M not get'n it!" Rob yelled as loudly as he could through a mouthful of nails. He was attempting to hammer a "Welcome to Number 65!" sign up at our door, at my insistence. He'd rather no one know where we lived. Me? I'd like Pete the Pizza Guy to deliver my Everything On It hot for once. Instead of cold and cheese-drippy like usual.

"_Why_?" I yelled back irritably.

"'M doin' some'n," he replied.

"You just don't _want _to answer it." I said primly.

"Yeah, but mmpf an exsquese," he said, and I giggled. "Hurry up mm ansfer it, before—"

"I've got it, I've got it!" I yelled, rushing to answer the phone, my attire forgotten.

"We'll have a Doo time, a Dabba-doo time, we'll have a gay old—" Please…not the high note, I thought hurriedly as I snapped up the phone.

"OH YEAH!" I yelled into the receiver, momentarily forgetting my place.

"Hello?" A strong, robust voice wafted up through the telephone.

"Oh shit," I muttered, before realising I was still connected. "Oh my god, I'm _so _sorry, see, I forgot I was connected, and then I did again, and—"

"'S'alright. Um, is this Jessica Mastriani?"

"Please, unless you're a serial killer, call me Jess. What can I do you for? You want to speak to Rob Wilkins? He's the mechanic of this household, he owns—"

"Uh, I was told I should call here if someone's Missing?"

Oh. Immediately, I felt subdued. I have a thing about Missing persons. I try my hardest not to do those anymore. They take a _great_ toll on my mental health, and I'm not the happiest person after I find someone. The war, Sex Tapes, mental images and _many other scarring events _have sort of subdued the Psychic vibe. These days, I didn't even let (insert guy's name) call me with jobs.

But this girl had got my phone number…home phone. What could she want?

"Where did you get this number from?" I said, somewhat harshly.

"Look, kid, someone told me you'd be able to help me find a Missing person, can you—"

"I believe I asked you a question, _lady_." I said quietly, totally pissed about the kid. Hello. I am twenty-five. I'm about as much a kid as Rambo.

"You're a Psychic, right?" She said.

"You could say that," I said slowly.

"So you understand about sometimes wanting to keep things, _special_ things, quiet, right?" Her voice became softer, and I had to jam the phone into my ear to listen.

"Jess? Who's on the phone?" _Now_ Rob decides to come in.

"Sshh!" I snapped, waving him away. "Yeah, I understand…"

"Well, not just anyone told me. My name is Susannah Simon, and I work for the Carmel Hills Police Force. I'm calling you because my daughter, Ana Jenny De Silva is Missing, and for the first time, I heard of you. They haven't been coming to me often, but one did today. A ghost, who'd died and heard of you. I'm the Mediator." She said stolidly, and my heart dropped.

"Is this how low the Government has sunk? Getting a girl my age to pretend she's a fucking Ghost Whisperer to have me search for any-fucking-body with a _sobstory_?" I snapped, disgusted with the lengths that people would go to cause me heartache.

"Didn't you just _hear_ me? I see Ghosts! Do you, like, know how hard it is for me to tell you this?" Susannah Simon was furious, I could tell, that she wasn't going to get her payoff from the Big Shots.

"Look, you can tell Gerry, or Harvey, Lenny, or any other name ending –y that there is no _way_ I'm going to do their Missing work for them! _I don't need the pressure_!" See Jess yell. See Jess hang up the phone. See Rob enter. See Jess in huff.

"Who was that on the phone?" Rob asked.

"Oh—you know. Telephone companies advertising. Same shit as usual." See Jess lie her scrawny little ass off.

Rob was too tired to do any extramarital stuff, so I spent most of the night awake in bed pondering Susannah S's words. _Mediator_? What the fuck was a Mediator? I still couldn't _believe_ how screwed up the government was. They were trying to play on my feelings of alienation in society by planting someone with "supernatural" powers? Yeah right. Like I'd believe that anyone with a fake name like Susannah Simon would be able to see ghosts.

Ghosts don't exist.

I'm in retirement.

I don't want to have to deal with freaky ghost shit now thanks!

But I couldn't help wondering…what if she wasn't a Gov. pawn? What if she was just someone who'd lost something important to them? In that case, I was being a total asshole to her. But arrrgh my brain hurt, and I was too TIRED to deal with this right now.

I put all thoughts of Susie S. away for another day. I had bigger things to worry about. Like getting a nice gold band on my finger instead of this Rock.

Stupid Rob…

--a/n. Not sure if I like this part, but I'm trying to distinguish between Jess and Suze. Jess is younger (in my story), and she hasn't exactly lost a child like Suze has. She's also probably not as emotionally mature as Suze is. I mean, Father D's dead, Paul and Kelly are dead, she's lost a child, her Dad, she's been dealing with the Dead for a LONG TIME. So Suze acts her age. Jess, about eighteen. But whatever. They will all grow up by story end.

Peaches,

Anya


End file.
